The scale of Andrew Beccone’s office is intimate, and he sits right in the middle of it, with dozens of books in teetering piles everywhere. They’re all peculiar, outdated, obscure and worthless throwaways, largely excavated from other people’s junk. One glance through the shelves yields The Naval Institute Guide to World Naval Weapons Systems, The Pleasure of Needlepoint, and a thin volume titled Ships.
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